Left Behind
by GirHugs
Summary: (Slash/AU-What if...) What if Clint had been in Afghanistan and seen Tony being held captive? What if years later- after the formation of the Avengers and a relationship has started between the SHIELD agent and the genius- Tony remembers Clint being there? Will the two be able to move past it? Or will it tear them apart...
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Avengers owned by Marvel.**

**A/N: This is a completed story. I'll be posting a chapter every day or two.**

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Tony turned swiftly, gauntlets raised to unleash a repulsor blast only to have the last robot fall still at his feet, an EMP-arrow sticking out of its head. He let out a huff of annoyance and rolled his eyes.

"I could have handled that, you know. You never let me have any fun," Tony whined, but he was secretly (or not-so-secretly) pleased that Clint was watching his back.

"You're welcome, dearest," Clint said mockingly.

Tony's faceplate slid up as he flashed a wicked grin in his boyfriend's direction. "Oh, I was planning on giving you my sincerest thank you _later_…unless you're into exhibitionism, in which case, why don't you just come on over here and…"

"Focus, please!" Steve barked through the comm, embarrassment bleeding through under his reprimanding tone. Tony and Clint just grinned at each other, all too pleased to poke fun at Steve and his innocent nature.

"Just think of it as _bonding_ time, Cap. A team-building exercise, if you will, which I hope to engage in for hours on end once we get back to the tower," Tony said in a husky voice as he watched his lover repel down the side of a building, his arm muscles accentuated oh so nicely by the flak vest he wore.

"Hawkeye, control your boyfriend. He's damaging the poor Captain's delicate sensibilities," Black Widow said in feigned annoyance, her lips tilted up at the sides just enough to show she was hiding her amusement.

"If I could control my boyfriend, do you really think I would let him spend those god-awful amount of hours down in his evil little laboratory? No, I would have trained him to stay in bed and be a good little boy toy who…"

"Hawkeye," Coulson's mild voice rang out over the comm. "Do I need to sign you up for another class on proper conduct in the field?"

Clint's eyes widened while his face paled slightly. "No, sir."

"Good, now get back to work. All of you."

Tony snickered quietly at his boyfriend's quick compliance to Coulson's orders. Not being able to resist scarring Steve further…

"Wow, you are so completely _whipped_, sugar plum. Coulson, you think you could share your mystic abilities of garnering obedience? Because I have to tell you, whenever Clint and I have made our little forays into the fantastical world of BDSM, Clint…"

"Stark," Coulson snapped while Steve let out a little yelp of shock.

"Yes, sir?"

"Shut up," Coulson said with barely restrained aggravation.

"Yes, sir."

Tony smiled broadly at his ability to ruffle feathers before bending down to pick up the robot carcass at his feet and started helping with clean up. A loud laugh burst from his mouth when he heard Thor asking Steve what BDSM meant.

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"Bruce, have I told you how much I love you recently?" Tony moaned as he took another bite of the fried treat in his hand. It was close to midnight and Bruce had finally convinced Tony to eat something by promising him some fried-goodness.

"Hey, stop trying to seduce my boyfriend away from me with food," Clint grumbled good-naturedly as he walked into the kitchen and snagged a little treat for himself. Taking a big bite, he groaned in satisfaction as spices exploded over his tongue. "Bruce, man, these are amazing. What are they called?"

Bruce smiled warmly as he pulled another few out of the frying pan. "Coxinha. They're kind of like the Brazilian chicken nugget."

"Except they are _so_ much better," Tony enthused as he snagged another one off the plate Bruce had just set down, wincing when it burned his fingers. "I love your cooking."

"Good to know," Bruce said with a wry smile. "Especially since my cooking is often the only way we can get you to take a break and eat something."

"I don't know what you're talking about. I take awesome care of myself," Tony smiled brightly.

Bruce snorted in laughter. "Lie. _Clint_ takes awesome care of you."

Clint moved behind Tony and wrapped his arms around the genius's waist, his chin coming to rest on Tony's shoulder. Tony relaxed back into the hard lines of Clint's body and smiled warmly at Bruce. "True, but I picked him, so indirectly, I take awesome care of me."

Bruce rolled his eyes before turning back towards the stove. "Whatever you say Tony."

Clint raised his head to lay a teasing kiss on Tony's neck, causing the man to let out a breathy sigh. "I can think of another way I would like to take care of you right now," he whispered lowly in Tony's ear. A self-satisfied smile spread across his face when he felt a shiver go down Tony's spine.

"I do owe you that thank you," Tony said thoughtfully as he pressed back against Clint.

Clint's arms tightened around Tony's waist. "Indeed you do."

"Well, thanks for the food, Brucie-bear, but Clint and I have some…_stuff_ to do," Tony said cheerfully as he started to drag Clint out of the kitchen. They heard Bruce let out an amused chuckle as they walked quickly to their bedroom.

As soon as they entered, Tony was slammed up against the wall, his mouth attacked by Clint's. Tongues battled for dominance for a few long moments before Tony gave in and let Clint lick his way into his mouth. Clint's hands raked through Tony's hair before clutching tightly to control the rough kiss.

"Door," Tony gasped out when Clint moved down to scrape his teeth against Tony's neck. Clint gave a grunt in response, his hand leaving Tony's hip for a brief moment to slam the door closed before returning it to lie possessively on Tony's ass. Clint ground his hips roughly into Tony's, making the older man let out a deep groan.

"I thought…" Tony's breath hitched when Clint slipped his hand under Tony's shirt to skim teasingly along the waistband of his jeans, "I was…supposed to be…the one giving," a harsh grind, "oh god…the thank you."

Clint smirked against Tony's neck and gave one last teasing bite before pulling away. He drank in the sight of his lover- dark eyes blown wide with lust, heavy panting breaths falling from kiss-swollen lips, bruised marks scattered along the long column of his neck- as he ran a hand up and down Tony's heaving side.

"And what exactly did you have in mind?"

Tony took a second to get his brain back on-line before grinning wickedly and flipping them around, pushing Clint up against the wall. He stepped closer to press his lips against Clint's in a smoldering kiss as his clever fingers unfastened Clint's jeans.

There was a heavy _thunk_ as Clint's head fell back against the wall, his breath stuttering out in harsh gasps, when Tony palmed his growing erection. Tony continued to press his hand along the thick length, savoring the groans falling from Clint's lips.

Tugging Clint forward by his belt loops, Tony shoved Clint's jeans and boxers down, dropping to his knees in front of his dazed boyfriend. Clint's hips jerked forward involuntarily and his fingers tangled in Tony's hair.

"Don't be a tease," Clint growled out.

Tony smirked up at his lover, tongue darting out for one last teasing lick before he went to work and gave his lover the thank you he deserved.

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"Fuck..." Clint cursed, collapsing to the floor as his knees gave out, body lax and blissed out. Gathering the rest of his energy, Clint wrapped his hand around Tony's straining erection and helped Tony reach his peak. A hot kiss and a few more jerks had Tony groaning out his own orgasm, body shuddering as waves of pleasure washed over him. Clint waited until Tony opened his eyes to raise his hand and licking his fingers clean.

Tony let out a groan. "Stop being sexy. Too tired to go again."

Clint let out a throaty chuckle before staggering to his feet. He kicked his jeans away from his feet and then grabbed for Tony's hand. Dragging his exhausted lover to his feet, Clint helped the genius over to their bed. He helped Tony strip from his clothing, carefully checking over Tony's body to make sure there wasn't any damage he had been hiding from the earlier fight with the robots. Satisfied that his lover was tired but otherwise fine, he went to the bathroom to wash up.

Walking back into the bedroom, Clint shrugged out of his shirt before settling down next to Tony who was already close to falling asleep. Tony let out a pleased sigh as Clint pulled him close, one arm slung over Tony's waist.

"Love you…" Tony mumbled as he slipped into unconsciousness.

Pressing closer to bury his nose in Tony's neck, Clint smiled happily. "Love you too."


	2. Chapter 2

"How long are you going to be gone?" Tony asked as he went about making a pot of coffee.

"Not sure," Clint said, the knife in his hand easily slicing through some apples to put in the fruit salad. "Estimating a week or so."

Tony sighed. It always sucked when Clint left, but after two years of having his boyfriend sporadically sent away on random SHIELD ops, he was getting used to dealing with it. He could be selfish, true, but he didn't like making Clint feel guilty about doing his job. Even if said job entailed traipsing around the world, infiltrating seedy crime organizations, and getting shot at.

"Where are you going this time?"

Clint flashed a sharp grin at Tony, his fingers stroking the knife in his hand. "If I told you, I'd have to kill you."

Tony smiled, attempting for humor-filled but it really just came off as strained. Because whenever Clint answered like that, it meant he was going somewhere in the Middle East.

"And I'm much too pretty to kill," Tony attempted to keep his tone light.

Clint easily read the worry in his boyfriend's eyes and walked over to pull Tony into his arms. Tony tucked his head into Clint's neck, hating that even after so many years had passed, the thought of the Middle East still filled him with anxiety.

"You're hurting my pride here, babe. You don't think I can take care of myself?"

Tony pushed the memories away and lifted his eyes to meet Clint's. Forcing a smile onto his face, Tony replied, "I know you'll come back safe, just promise me you'll come back soon."

Clint leaned forward to press his lips softly against Tony's. "I'll do my very best." Releasing Tony from his arms, the pair got back to preparing breakfast for the rest of the team.

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It had been three weeks. Three fucking _long_ and _awful_ weeks with no word from Clint. Three weeks of waiting and worrying and trying not to fall apart. _Trying_ being the operative word there because Tony was having a little bit of difficulty keeping his cool when his memories plagued him night and day. The nightmares were getting…bad.

"What do you mean no one has heard from him?!" Tony asked as he paced frantically in the living room.

Coulson heaved a sigh. "This isn't anything new, Stark. It's quite common, actually, that an agent will go off the grid while doing recon. Sometimes there isn't a way to get word out until the mission is accomplished."

"But he said a week. He said he thought he would only be gone one week and it's been three!"

"It was a guess, Stark. Even an experienced agent can't predict how long a mission will take until they are in the thick of things."

Tony ran his fingers through his hair, a nervous habit he usually reserved for high stress situations. And this situation was very high stress.

"But he'll be okay, right? I mean, he's fine. A lack of communication doesn't _mean_ anything," Tony said, hoping that if he said the words out loud he could convince himself they were true.

Natasha reached out to grab Tony's shoulder, stopping his anxious pacing. "Tony, he's fine," she said softly. Tony stared at her for a moment, trying to find any hidden doubts in her eyes. Natasha just met his gaze evenly, she had no uncertainty that Clint would come back safely.

Tony's shoulders slumped in relief and he gave Natasha a small grateful smile. He knew it wasn't easy for her to reach out and comfort him, of all people, and he appreciated her kindness.

"Thanks, Natasha."

Natasha squeezed his shoulder slightly before letting go and settling back onto the couch next to Coulson. Bruce, seeing that it was a good time to distract Tony before he could work up another panic attack, got to his feet and nodded his head towards the hallway.

"Want to help me with an experiment?"

Tony grinned happily at Bruce. "Of course." He gladly followed after his friend, more than willing to submerge himself in the world of science in an attempt to forget his worries. If only for a little while.

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It was well past midnight when Tony startled awake, his mouth open in a silent scream. His eyes wide, his chest heaving as nightmarish images- memories- flashed through his mind. As soon as his brain caught up with the implications of his memories, he was on his feet, running for the bathroom.

He just barely managed to lift the lid on the toilet before he was emptying his meager stomach contents into the porcelain bowl. His body trembled as he continued to gag, his sweat-drenched shirt clinging to his heaving chest.

"Sir, are you alright?" Jarvis asked when Tony finally managed to stop retching, his body going limp as he slid to the tiled floor, back pressed up against the bathroom cabinet.

Tony drew his knees up to his chest and buried his head in his arms. His whole body shook as he tried to suppress the sobs building up in his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut tightly, wishing he could purge the haunting images from his mind but they just wouldn't go away.

"Sir? Should I call for assistance?" Jarvis asked again, anxiously.

Tony shook his head, not wanting to accept what his mind was telling him.

_It can't be true…it's not true. It's __**not**_ _true. _

Tony repeated the words over and over in his head, hoping, praying, that if he repeated them enough they would be right. They would be true and the image seared into his mind would just be a lie- a stupid fabrication of Tony's tortured past meant to torment him in the present. Because it wasn't true…it just…it _couldn't_ be true.

Tony took another few moments to calm his breathing before uncurling his body and getting to his feet shakily. Jarvis called out once again but Tony just ignored him. He stumbled his way down to his lab and immediately got to work, his eyes fierce and determined.

There was only one way he could prove to himself that it was all a foolish trick his mind was playing on him and it was going to take some time to locate the information he wanted, _needed_. Luckily for him, SHIELD's systems weren't quite as secure as they liked to think.

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Clint let out a sigh of relief as he stepped out of the elevator and into the Avenger's living quarters in the tower. It was nice to be home.

_It's nice to __**have**__ a home_, Clint smiled wryly.

His entire life had consisted of _places_. Places he could return to and places he could feel safe, but never a place where he felt he _belonged_. Not until he had moved into the tower at least. Not until he had started his life with Tony.

Clint moved towards the living room, hearing voices chattering away. When he stepped into the living room, he saw Steve retelling one of his Howling Commandos stories, a sad but fond look on his face as he recalled his past friends. Thor sat in rapt attention, as he did any time someone told a story of war. Coulson was only half paying attention, his eyes skimming a file in his hand.

Natasha glanced up from sharpening one of her knives as Steve finished his story. "Look who finally decided to show up," she said with a small smile. "Maybe now Tony will stop freaking out."

Clint winced as he set his bag down next to the entryway. "How bad was it?"

Natasha's eyes softened slightly as she watched Clint. "Well, he was having a panic attack two days ago, but Bruce managed to distract him with science and we haven't seen him since. He's barricaded himself in his lab…so normal, I guess, for Tony Stark anyways."

Clint rolled his eyes at the little jest as he settled onto the couch. He knew that Jarvis would have informed Tony as soon as he had entered the tower, so if Tony was willing to take a break, he would wander up from the depths of his lab eventually.

"The assignment?" Coulson asked without looking up from the file.

"Accomplished, sir."

"Any problems?"

"No more than usual."

Coulson's eyes flickered up briefly and Clint smirked at him. "What? You love all the paperwork you have to fill out whenever I'm sent out on a mission."

"Oh yes, paperwork is my life's joy," Coulson said blandly. Steve muffled a laugh and Thor grinned broadly.

Clint turned his head to the entryway of the living room when he heard the sound of shuffling feet approach. He smiled when he saw his boyfriend shuffle in, sweatpants slung low on his hips and a wrinkled ACDC t-shirt adorning his chest.

The smile quickly turned to a frown when he saw the look on Tony's face. He was on his feet in a second, approaching Tony slowly. And Tony just continued to stare at him with blank, red-rimmed eyes, as if he wasn't fully there with them.

"Tony?" Clint said softly, watching his lover carefully. There was no sign that Tony had even heard him, just the persistence of that blank look. And that look scared Clint, terrified him, because Tony was _never_ devoid of emotion.

Tony was always animated, projecting more emotion and personality than most of the world knew what to do with. And it wasn't always what Tony was actually feeling- Tony had plenty of masks- but even if it was fake, there was always _something_ playing across Tony's face. But right now, there was just _nothing_.

"Tony, what's the matter?" Clint continued to speak softly, keeping his approach slow and unthreatening. As soon as he was within reach, he raised a hand to carefully lay it on Tony's arm.

As soon as skin touched skin, Tony jumped back, as if burned. His whole body flinched as he pushed himself up against the wall. His body was strung tight, his eyes wide but still void of any feeling as he watched Clint.

Clint hid the hurt that coursed through him when Tony avoided his touch, letting his spurned hand drop to his side. "Tony, what's going on?"

"You left me," Tony said hollowly.

Clint frowned worriedly. "Tony, I don't understand. You knew I was going on a mission. I told you."

And suddenly there was a tidal wave of emotion flooding into Tony's dark eyes, his breathing turned ragged, as if he was drowning alive. He raised shaky arms to wrap tightly around his body, as if he was trying to keep himself from shattering into pieces.

"You left me." The devastation in his watery eyes was almost palpable. "You were there…in Afghanistan…in the cave. You were there and you _left_ me," Tony choked out, voice broken and _hurt_.

Clint closed his eyes, unable to face the wounded look on his lover's face. But the words…there was no hope escaping them. No escaping the horrifying truth that he had betrayed Tony. No escaping the sickening reality that he might lose Tony now that he knew Clint's greatest mistake.

_Better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all? What a fucking lie…_

Because opening his eyes to meet Tony's tragic eyes...god, it _hurt_. It felt like his heart was fucking shattering to pieces, because he knew that he was the reason for that wounded look on Tony's face. And that knowledge, it was killing him. Memorizing the heart wrenching pain in Tony's eyes, Clint swore to himself that he would _never_ be the cause of that look again.

And, yeah, he may have hidden this horrible secret, tried to banish it to the darkest depths of his soul. But now that it was revealed, now that it had been dragged out into the light…he was going to fight it. Clint wasn't someone who just gave up and he sure as hell was not going to give up Tony. He was going to fight this. Fight to regain Tony's trust. And fight to be worthy of Tony's love. Fight to keep the one good thing that had ever happened to him in his entire damned life.


	3. Chapter 3

"Tony," Clint said softly as he stepped closer.

"Get the fuck away from me!" Tony shrieked, his voice distraught and his eyes wild as he tried to push himself closer to the wall behind him, avoiding Clint's touch. Clint flinched at the terror playing across Tony's face.

"Tony, just let me-"

"Explain?!" Tony's voice was hysterical. "You think that you can just fucking explain why you left me in that hell hole to be _tortured_?!"

Clint tasted the metallic tang of blood flood into his mouth when he bit the inside of his cheek. A weak attempt to try to keep a level head, because having Tony look at him like that, like he was a monster, was throwing him over the edge.

"I'm sorry…" his voice cracked.

"Don't!" Tony snapped, his eyes burning into Clint's with dark rage. "Don't apologize. I don't want to fucking hear it! Just…" Tony dropped his gaze, the anger leaving him just as quickly as it blazed to life. He edged his way along the wall until he felt the entryway behind him. "Just leave me the fuck alone," he said lowly as he hastily backed away and retreated down the hall.

Clint blinked back the tears in his eyes as he watched Tony walk away, his breath going ragged as he forgot how to breathe. Clint collapsed to his knees, his head swimming as he struggled to force oxygen into his lungs. But it wasn't working. His chest felt heavy, like it was made of lead.

"Breathe, Clint." His eyes snapped up to lock on Natasha. His heart beat rapidly in his chest, the sound nearly drowning out her soft words. "Slow down. You're going to be okay, just breathe."

He tried. He really fucking _tried_. But all he could manage were sharp, panicked gasps that left his lungs screaming for fresh air. His eyes darted back to where Tony had walked away and an acute sense of loss pierced his heart.

"Slowly…in."

Clint's chest heaved as he fought to take a full breath, his rib cage expanding jerkily.

"Out."

He let the air leave him in a whoosh, his body deflating.

"In."

Clint followed the order blindly, his mind too numb to remember the process on it's own. His eyes just stared at the spot where Tony had disappeared.

"Out."

And he felt numb. _Empty_. His head and heart were just as empty as the spot where Tony should have been. And Tony was gone, leaving him. Because Clint had fucked things up…like usual.

He felt a firm hand on his arm and let himself be dragged to his feet. Let himself be led to a bedroom down the hall. A bedroom that had been his…before he moved into Tony's room and it became _theirs_. His legs buckled under his weight as he collapsed onto the desk chair.

"Clint…"

He stared at his hands, looking but not seeing. His mind was a horrific mess of thoughts and images, self-punishment at its worst. Tony's wounded look. Tony's distressed voice. Tony's watery eyes. Tony Tony Tony…

"Agent Barton!"

Years of training had him snapping back to reality so fast his mind reeled for a second. And then his eyes were on Coulson, waiting and expectant.

"Yes, sir?" His voice was gruff and steady, even though he felt anything but.

Coulson took slow steps forward and then settled himself onto the bed across from where Clint sat. Clint stared into his eyes, trying to absorb the calm security pouring out of the senior agent.

"You knew this was a risk," Coulson's voice was composed as ever. "We knew there was a chance he would remember." Clint shook his head back and forth, not wanting to hear this. "It's the reason there was a question mark next to your name when we made the team roster. And that risk didn't disappear just because you started a relationship with him."

Clint exploded out of his chair, anger pulsing through him. "You don't think I _know_ that?! You don't think that I've feared every time he woke up screaming from a nightmare, it was because he saw me?! I have been living in a constant state of dread for years because every damn day I had to live with the fear that he would remember..."

Coulson watched coolly as Clint paced and ranted. Natasha studied her teammate closely, never having seen him lose it so completely, never realizing…

"Was he worth it? The constant stress and dread and worry?" Natasha asked and Clint froze on the spot, his head snapping up to glare at her.

"Of course. He will _always_ be worth it," Clint growled.

Natasha nodded her head and then quirked her lips up in a slight smirk. "Then you fight for him."

Clint nodded his head sharply, a brittle smile cutting across his face. "Already planned on it."

Seeing that their friend had come back to his senses, Coulson and Natasha stayed with Clint to help him sort out his next move.

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"Tony?" Bruce's voice called hesitantly into the lab. He couldn't see anything, all the lights turned off, leaving the basement level lab in complete darkness save the little lights flashing on and off on various pieces of tech.

He shuffled into the lab slowly, trying to remain calm even though he could feel the anxiety building in his chest. He didn't know what had happened, walking back into the living room after the argument had started. But the looks on everyone's faces and then Clint's breakdown after Tony had left were clear signs that whatever was going on, it was serious. Very serious.

"Jarvis, can you turn the lights to 60%?"

There was a slight hesitance that led Bruce to believe Jarvis was checking with Tony, as usual, before the AI answered. "Certainly, Dr. Banner."

Bruce blinked his eyes a few times to let them adjust to the sudden influx of light and then peered around the lab once again. His gaze settled on the couch at the back of the lab, where Tony was curled into a small ball, his legs drawn up close to his body as he hugged them to his chest.

"Tony?"

Bruce grimaced when Tony raised his head to stare at him with wide eyes, tear streaks running down his face. He didn't even bother wiping at them, which just went to show how hard he was taking this. Tony hated showing weakness.

"Hey, Bruce," Tony rasped out.

Sinking onto the couch next to Tony, Bruce studied his friend closely. "Want to fill me in on what's going on?"

Tony remained silent for so long that Bruce wasn't really getting his hopes up for an answer. But then, to Bruce's surprise, Tony leaned against his side as if seeking comfort from him. Bruce was frozen for a second, his body tensing, unsure of what to do. No one had come to him for comfort in…well, it had been a long time. He felt Tony's tense beside him, and forced himself to relax. Throwing an arm over his friend's shoulder, he let Tony seek the comfort he wanted until Tony felt calm enough to talk.

"I had a nightmare a few days ago…" Tony started, voice small and quiet. "That's not really unusual when Clint is sent away to the Middle East, you know, triggers and all that pyscho-babble. But this time…" Tony swallowed thickly. "This time it was different."

Bruce waited for Tony to continue, but he seemed to be lost in his thoughts. Giving his shoulders a little squeeze, Bruce prompted Tony. "Different how?"

Bruce felt a shiver run through Tony. "I saw him…Clint. They were…I hadn't been cooperating, you know? So they were trying different ways to...persuade me." Tony's voice was thick with tears as he continued. "And one time…my head came up from the water and I saw him. I remember seeing Clint, standing there…_watching_."

Bruce held Tony closer as his voice filled with horror, his eyes distant as he relived his nightmare. And all Bruce could do was sit there, and hold his friend as he came apart.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel.**

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_(Flashback- Afghanistan)_

"So how long have you been here?" Tony asked, rubbing a hand across his aching chest. The electromagnet was heavy and made breathing a bit more of a struggle than Tony was used to. He felt like he'd never get a full, satisfying breath into his lungs again.

"I'm not exactly sure. It's difficult to keep track of time here, but if I had to hazard a guess…I'd say about three months," Yinsen mused.

Tony shook his head, not even able to comprehend being imprisoned in this hellhole for that long. He had only been there two weeks, give or take a day, and it was already driving him crazy.

His whole body was a giant bruise, his hands the only part of him left unharmed. Couldn't damage the hands that they hoped would soon be building them missiles, now could they? But the rest of Tony…yeah, that was _all_ fair game.

Rhodey was close to finding him, that's what Tony told himself. What he _had_ to tell himself because he wasn't sure how much longer he could hold out if he didn't. He knew what the bastards wanted from him, and he was determined not to give in …but it was getting harder and harder to keep his resolve as more time dragged by.

Tony's body tensed when the click of the lock resounded through the darkened cell. He tried to suppress the shiver that rocked through his body, a wave of trepidation going through him. The click meant pain, meant suffering, meant _torture_. Fear was a conditioned response now. Pavlov was tormenting him from the grave.

Struggling to his feet, Tony tried not to sway as he stood, hands raised behind his head. A wince cut across his face as the movement tugged at the stitches in his shoulder- a quick patch up from Yinsen after Tony's last…_discussion_ with the Ten Rings spokesman.

The air in the cave was thick with tension as the captors stared down the captured. Silence reigned for a few seconds and Tony just glared at Bakaar. Tony, at first, had referred to him by his first name, Abu, because he enjoyed comparing him to a monkey…but after the first beating, he decided he didn't like marring Disney characters by associating them with crazy terrorists. So Bakaar had become Smiley instead because any time Tony was being _persuaded_ into cooperating, Bakaar just stood there, watching the proceedings with a sadistic grin on his face, the sick fuck.

Tony knew he wasn't the leader of the Ten Rings, but he was the closest thing to a leader Tony had seen thus far. That's why he was a little surprised when another man stepped forward and addressed Tony. He was even more surprised when the man started speaking English, his voice smooth and lilting with a soft accent.

"Tony Stark…" he started, eyes appraising the battered man before him. "I am Raza. My men tell me you aren't obliging them, that you, in fact, spurn our overtures of friendship by denying our requests."

Rolling his eyes, Tony scoffed at the man's comment. "If this is how you treat your friends, I'd hate to see how you treat your enemies."

"Precisely," a wicked glint entered Raza's eyes as he stepped forward. "You wouldn't want to see how we treat our enemies. So why don't you do us all a favor and cease this stubborn refusal to give in to our demands."

Tony's glare blazed intensely and he crossed his arms over his chest, trying not to let a pained grimace show on his face when they settled over the tender area surrounding the electromagnet.

"I don't know," he drawled. "I think I'm enjoying this little vacation. Don't much see the point in going back to work just yet."

The tendons in Raza's neck protruded for a second as he ground his teeth in frustration. Giving Tony one last glare, Raza flicked two fingers forward.

"Very well," he said as two of his barbaric henchmen moved forward to grab Tony. "We'll have to see if we can change your mind."

Lashing out and hoping to take them by surprise, Tony threw a fist forward into one man's jaw. He fell back but another man just took his place. A nasty kick to the ribs sent Tony crashing to the ground, gasping for air. Harsh hands ruthlessly hauled Tony up, dragging him towards the door, Yinsen's pleas to stop chasing after them. Tony couldn't do anything except clutch at the car battery attached to his chest.

Rocks sliced across Tony's knees as they dragged him through dimly lit passages, towards their little torture room. No seriously, they had a _torture_ _room_, like some sick shrine to all sociopathic killers in slasher-flicks. Tony hadn't been able to withhold the snicker that burst out of him when they first brought him there. Unfortunately, all good humor left him shortly thereafter. Now it was just a room he loathed.

Tony's eyes widened when they entered and he saw that the normal restraining chair they put him in had been replaced by a large tub of water. He kicked his legs out trying to gain purchase on the dirt-covered ground but the men just ignored his weak attempts to get loose.

"You sick fuckers! You cannot be serious! Let me go!" Tony's outraged yells were ignored as the men dropped him right in front of the tub.

Chest heaving with panicked gasps, Tony stared wide-eyed at the grimy, murky water. His eyes flickered up when Raza stepped in front of him, smug grin pulling at the man's lips.

"You're quite sure you don't want to cooperate?"

Glancing back towards the water, Tony almost gave in. _Almost_. But he would never forgive himself if he did. Trying his best to mentally prepare himself for what was to come, Tony glared back at Raza and sneered in his direction.

"Go fuck yourself," he spat.

Tony didn't even have a second to think about taking a breath before his head was forced down. The water was ice cold and biting as it washed over him.

Tony tried his best to remain calm, forcing his body to stay still. It wasn't just a lack of oxygen he had to worry about, but the water itself too. A single stray drop of the murky liquid could electrocute him if it landed on one of the exposed wires of the car battery currently keeping the shrapnel from his heart.

So he tried…he really, _really_ tried to remain calm. He was no good to them dead. Logically, he knew this. But when a minute passed and his lungs started screaming for air…well, logic kind of flew out the window and instinct took over.

His body jerked of its own volition, arms flailing wildly in an attempt to hit his tormenters. But the hand on his head remained firm, unyielding. An inky black started creeping in on the edges of his vision and it felt wrong. Fire seared through his body and his lungs ached and he felt like his world should be alight with flames because of how much his chest _burned_. But the darkness just continued to envelop him.

Just when he thought he was going to pass out, his head was roughly snapped up. And Tony never encountered a breath of air more sweet than the one that greeted him then. It rushed into his lungs, cool and soothing. His chest heaved as he did his best to greedily suck in as much oxygen as he could.

And before he could fully appreciate his ability to breath again, it was cruelly taken from him. He felt like it should have been easier, should have been less terrifying since now he knew what to expect. But it wasn't. God, it wasn't, at all. It hurt and it burned and it killed him just as horribly.

He wasn't sure how long they kept him down the second time, but it felt like forever before his head was allowed to leave the dark depths of his new hell on earth. He blinked furiously, trying to clear the water from his eyes, trying to locate the face of someone who could just make it stop. Please, god, just make it stop.

Brown eyes searched the room frantically, but all he could see were monsters. Cold. Detached. Amused. Indifferent. Pleased. Face after face told a different side of the cruelty of mankind.

Tony's wild eyes stopped on one man, thinking he had seen a flash of concern enter those blue eyes, there and gone in a second. Tony searched the man's face intensely, beseeching, praying for the kindness he had glimpsed to return. Tony opened his mouth to call out, desperate to break through that impassive mask, but his scream was swallowed by the water as his head was forced down once more. By the time he was allowed to breath again, any notion of being saved had been thoroughly stripped from his muddled brain. Every ounce of his remaining energy was dedicated to just surviving.

_Just make it through this_, Tony told himself. _You can survive this hell. One day, one breath at a time. You can do this. You __**have**__ to do this. Giving up isn't an option._

Resolute in his will to survive, Tony fought for every breath he took, determined to endure this hell, promising himself he would escape.

Two days later, he started building the arc reactor.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel**

* * *

_(Flashback/Afghanistan)_

Clint blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to ease the stinging pain that accompanied the harsh wind throwing sand about like a biting whip. Even the sunglasses were unable to prevent all the sand from getting in his eyes. A drop of blood welled up from his cracked lips and Clint's tongue darted out to lick it away, the metallic tang a familiar taste in his mouth. Trying to withhold a sigh, Clint longed for this mission to be over already. He would only be at this base- a labyrinth of caves-for a day or two but time seemed to move more slowly out here in this barren wasteland.

He wasn't entirely sure where this base was located…just somewhere in the Afghan desert. When they first brought him here, they had required he be sedated and blindfolded- a sign of trust on his part, they said. It took all his training in restraint to keep from lashing out when they had approached him with the needle. Losing control, losing consciousness, was not something he enjoyed.

But… it had been necessary. SHIELD didn't need the location of this particular base, just the information on the people here. Base sites were always changing, but the leaders of the Ten Rings were more stable and intel on them was more likely to provide a way to take down the crime syndicate.

Thirteen months. Thirteen months he had been on this mission, infiltrating the crime rings, building a reputation, and establishing business relationships. Thirteen fucking months of entrenching himself in this world built by the scum of the earth, trying not to lose himself along the way. Thirteen months…and now it was almost over. Thank fucking god.

He had finally been able to garner a meeting with one of the big fish. Not a shark, not the tippy-top of this criminalized pyramid, but close. The man he was meeting controlled the weapons-trade for the Ten Rings, an important and lucrative part of their business. The name he had been given was Raza.

"As you can see, we have quite a large horde of weapons here. Just ask and we shall provide."

The guy giving him a tour of the base, Masih, had a thick accent, but was easy enough to follow with his slow way of talking. Clint was just happy they had been able to switch over to English. Natasha would seriously berate- harm- him for not having studied more before going under, but Clint just didn't have the penchant for picking up other languages like she did. He could fake the Ukrainian accent his cover required just fine, but he didn't quite reach the easy flow of speech expected of a native born Ukrainian.

"I see that most of the weapons here are from SI…" Clint trailed off.

It was always easy to pick up on extra intel when you left things open-ended, leaving the person space to fill in the blanks. People often didn't even realize how much vital information they let slip when they assumed it was just a casual conversation. Most people weren't trained to dissect every detail they came across, but Clint was not most people.

A smug grin spread across Masih's face. "Yes, we have an…arrangement of sorts that allows us to get a wide variety of SI weapons."

Allowing a smirk to slide across his face, Clint let a dark humor enter his eyes. "And SI weapons are the best, aren't they? Very…destructive."

Masih let out a barking laugh and nodded his head. "Indeed they are." Waving a hand for Clint to follow him, Masih led him toward the mouth of one of the caves. "Come, come Mr. Andreiko."

The walkie on Masih's hip blazed to life and he picked it up to listen to the quick spew of words. After a hasty reply, Masih turned to Clint with a sly grin on his face. "Apparently, Raza would like to invite you to some entertainment before the meeting."

"Entertainment?" Clint asked as they entered the cave. His eyes did an involuntary scan of the area, locating everyone in the vicinity and determining their threat-levels. Most of the men were heavily armed, but not as comfortable with handling weapons as they tried to appear.

"We recently obtained a new guest whom we hope will build us a missile not so easily attained as the others. However, our guest is not being as forthcoming as Raza wants. Tonight's entertainment will be Raza's further attempts to persuade him to listening to our demands," Masih explained as they weaved through dark tunnels.

Clint couldn't help but roll his eyes at his guide's back. These men were way to bored if torture was a form of entertainment for them. Although…watching Natasha beat information out of the badies was sometimes good for a laugh. It was funny seeing how quickly they went from amusement at the 'pretty girl' to terror at the 'crazy bitch.'

Voices echoed down the long passage and soon enough, they turned a corner to see a gaggle of men just inside a room at the end of the tunnel. Masih waved Clint forward and pushed some of the men collected there out of their way.

"…you don't want to cooperate?"

Clint studied the profile of the man speaking. His voice was soft, confident in a way that was only bred from having power. He guessed that this man was Raza.

His ears vaguely registered the hissed response of the captive before a gasped breath and splash of water resounded through the room. Clint watched Raza's face carefully, trying to gain insight into his personality based on his reactions to the proceedings before him.

Clint could tell he had a malicious streak that was pretty much expected of all terrorist. There was also an arrogance to him that could mean two different things. One, he could be intelligent enough to plan his moves carefully…which could make him dangerous. Or, two, and far more likely, he was over-confident because things had just happened to go his way so far and thus would make stupid mistakes in the future…which made him an annoyance.

Frowning in discontent, Clint wondered why he felt something was…off. Once he thought about it, he realized that it was the sounds in the room that were wrong. It was much too quiet. He could hear the soft snickering of some of the men but there was no splashing, no sounds of a struggle.

Clint looked at the tub curiously and saw that the hostage was far calmer than what would be expected after thirty seconds being under. His arms were being held out to the sides by two men, his muscles bunched and tendons straining, but he was perfectly still as a third man held his head under water.

Cocking his head to the side, Clint watched as long seconds ticked by. At about the one-minute mark, the prisoner's body shuddered, his head jerking slightly. The man's arms suddenly exploded with movement, trying to knock the men loose, but they continued to restrain him. Spasms rocked through the prisoner's body and Clint clenched his jaw to stop the sympathetic grimace from showing up in his face. Clint was all too aware of how painful the sensation of drowning was.

With a sharp nod from Raza, the man holding the hostage under water jerked his head up roughly. The room was filled with the sounds of heaving breaths as the man gulped in as much air as he could. Clint didn't have a chance to look at the man's face, his attention solely focused on the…contraption attached to the man's chest. Before Clint could decipher what it was, the hostage was forced back under.

Clint had to respect the calm the man tried to maintain and wondered who exactly he was. It was tricky to figure out…Masih had said they wanted his help building missiles so he had to be extremely intelligent and very familiar with weapons…but his ability to keep composure suggested at some sort of training. There was just no way a civilian could fight off instinctive panic for so long. So a Marine engineer? CIA tech?

This time, the shudders started a little earlier but it was to be expected. The man hadn't been given the chance to fully recover after the first dunking. Raza signaled for the end of this round after another fifteen seconds had passed.

Forceful fingers clenched in the man's unruly hair and snapped his head up.

_…_

_No fucking way…_

The only reason Clint's mouth didn't drop open in shock was because of years of training…but seriously, that was the _only_ reason. Because…god, what the hell was going on? It was _Stark_. Tony Fucking Stark. Clint hadn't even heard of him being reported missing…so, what?

Stark's eyes were filled to the brim with terror, his chest heaving as he sucked in large gulps of air. Clint curled his hands into tight fists at his sides, a shaky attempt at remaining calm. Stark wasn't trained for this…he was a civilian, a civilian who shouldn't be fighting for his life in a dingy cave in the middle of the fucking Afghan desert. Clint hated…_hated_ it when crime rings resorted to torturing civilians.

When Stark scanned the room, desperation pouring out of his dark eyes, Clint's fingernails cut into the palm of his hand as he curled his fists tighter. And when Stark's gaze landed on him…god, it was like a sucker punch to the gut seeing the pain and dread leveled right at him. Clint was sure his mask must have slipped for a second, because Stark's eyes didn't move on. They remained on him and Clint saw his mouth open before his head was shoved back under the water.

And fuck…Stark's scream could still be heard, drowned out as it was by the water.

_The mission…stick to the mission…you can't blow your cover…the mission, the mission, the mission…_

Clint barely held cover, wanting desperately to say fuck the mission and kill every one of those bastards in the room…but he _couldn't_. SHIELD needed this information and the chances of Clint being able to successfully get Stark out of there were not good. At all. There were too many men. Regardless of the fact that they didn't seem to be as well trained as Clint, they had sheer numbers on their side. Clint was a single man, a single agent. He wouldn't be able to get Stark out alone.

...So Clint stuck to the mission. And it hurt…every jerk Stark's body gave as he was deprived of air, every choked gulp of air he took when allowed, every muffled scream that bubbled up from the water…it was a different kind of torture for Clint.

The dry-drowning went on for another two rounds and by the time Raza called it to an end, Stark was nothing but a limp, soaked mess. Clint forced himself to watch as two men dragged Stark away, an image his subconscious could haunt him with later as punishment for not doing anything.

And it was one of the hardest decisions Clint had ever made in his life, not doing anything. Who would have thought inaction could be so painful? But it was…so fucking painful. He told himself that there was no way the United States government wasn't doing everything they could to find Tony Stark. Told himself that there must be a dozen different agencies dedicating precious resources to locating Stark.

Clint told himself a lot of things…but none of them made it any easier to leave two days later with plenty of information on the Ten Rings and one painfully empty space next to him in the SUV where Tony Stark could have been but wasn't. All because Clint Barton was a SHIELD agent who carried out the mission he was assigned. And he had never loathed being an agent more than in that moment, as the sedative stole his consciousness and his eyes slipped close...leaving him with the knowledge that he was abandoning Stark here in the desert where Clint wouldn't even be able to point out on a map because he didn't fucking know where they were.

It haunted Clint for a long time after that, his decision to adhere to the mission and leave Stark behind. And years later when he met the man again, Clint did everything in his power to never let harm come to Tony Stark again. Clint had failed him once and it _would not_ happen again.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Avengers are property of Marvel.**

* * *

"At first I thought it was just another nightmare. I mean, I've had those kind before, where my subconscious decides to really screw with me and make my memories worse…but this just seemed too _real_, you know?" Tony ran trembling fingers through his hair as he vented to Bruce, his voice strained. Bruce watched his friend pace madly back and forth, trying to stay calm in the face of the agitated energy Tony was broadcasting.

"And being the masochistic idiot I am, I just had to know. So I hacked into SHIELD's database and looked for Clint's files around the time I was…_there_ and it turns out he was there too." Bruce flinched when Tony barked out a hysterical laugh. "And you want to know the best part? Everyone knew he had seen me there! Everyone at SHIELD fucking knew! It was all there written down in all those fucking files."

Tony suddenly stopped in his wild pacing, swiveling around to look at Bruce. "Apparently Clint wasn't even supposed to be part of the Avengers. I mean, Fury didn't _want_ me on the team, but on the off chance that he _needed_ me on the team, he knew having Clint around could be bad, in case I remembered. But then Loki went and had that hissy fit and Clint got dragged into the whole mess…and I didn't remember and the team _worked_. We saved the day, everyone together, as a team."

A small smile pulled at the corners of Bruce's mouth. He knew it might have been inappropriate given the current topic of discussion…but sometimes he just couldn't help it. Not when Tony surprised him like this. Because for all that Tony punishes himself- seriously, that masochistic comment was so on target- for being a selfish asshole; Tony couldn't be further from the truth.

Bruce knew they all played a role on that day, but _everyone_ knew who actually saved the world, who made the ultimate sacrifice to end the battle, and that was Tony, all the way. Afterwards, the brief flashes of memories Bruce got from the Hulk, well it left Bruce more than just a little in awe of the man before him. And it's what made Bruce decide to stick around afterwards, made Bruce strive to be good and brave just like Tony.

"What?" Tony asked, confusion coloring his tone. "Why are you smiling?"

Bruce made sure to get a handle on his emotions again, before waving it away. "Sorry, it's nothing," he assured. "So Fury just decided to put Clint on the team after that?"

Tony studied his friend for a long moment before shaking his head slowly. "Not exactly. Apparently they didn't know if I truly hadn't recognized him or if I had just decided to ignore it at the time because, you know, more serious things were happening like the world being overrun by fucking aliens," Tony collapsed onto his desk chair, his voice a lot weary and a little bitter.

"They waited to see how I would act _after_. They purposely set up little instances in which Clint and I would be alone, maybe to try and trigger my memory or something, I don't really fucking know. But when I didn't go all crazy on their asses after a month or so, I guess Fury decided it was safe enough and added Clint to the roster. He just also made sure to take preventative measures and ordered Clint not to say anything even closely related to Afghanistan, ever. I guess…"

Bruce waited for Tony to continue, but he seemed lost to his thoughts. The only sound in the lab was soft tapping as Tony's fingers ceaselessly drummed out the Fibonacci sequence.

"So…" Bruce spoke into the near-silence after a minute. "What are you going to do now?"

A heavy sigh left Tony as he bit his lip in thought. "I don't know…" And Tony's voice sounded so unsure that Bruce winced in sympathy for the pain his friend must be going through.

"I mean, it was a mission. Clint was on a mission, that's why he was there. I read the file, I read the debriefing, and I read his reasoning for why he did what he did. Leaving me was the only option. Logically, I know this. But…" Bruce mercifully ignored the cracking of Tony's voice, knowing his friend didn't like showing any sort of weakness, even if it was perfectly understandable.

"It's kind of hard to be logical about something like this," Bruce supplied and Tony looked relieved that his friend understood. "Maybe you should talk to Clint…" Bruce said softly. Tony looked like he was about to protest, terror playing across his eyes, but Tony had always been a braver man than most.

"Yeah…" nodding his head slowly, Tony staggered to his feet. "Yeah, I guess I should."

Bruce got to his feet as well, and gave Tony's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. "I'm here if you need me."

Tony gave Bruce a small smile, and then went to find Clint, looking more lost and unsure than Bruce had ever seen him before.

Knowing this was going to be a long night for Tony, Bruce made his way to the kitchen and started cooking. He had always found good food to be soothing for the soul; maybe it would help Tony too.

**XxXxXxXxXxXx Left xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx Behind xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Jarvis, where's Clint?"

"He is in his old room, sir," the AI informed him. Tony's steps faltered for a moment, a twinge of pain going through his chest, before continuing his journey through the tower

When Tony reeached the bedroom door, he paused, hand poised to knock, but frozen in trepidation. Tony took a steadying breath and then let his knuckles rap softly against the wood. The quiet voices he had heard leaking through promptly cut off. Suddenly the door swung open, Natasha staring at Tony with a critical gaze. Tony wasn't all that surprised to see her and Coulson with Clint. Wasn't at all surprised that Natasha was being defensive of Clint.

"Tony!" Clint jumped off the bed as soon as he saw Tony, moving forward as if to reach out but then stopping a few feet away with a concerned frown on his face.

Tony fidgeted nervously under the intense gazes of the three SHIELD agents, never having felt more unsteady and unsure. This whole situation was proving to be more than he could handle.

"Um…" Tony glanced at Clint over Natasha's shoulder. "I was wondering if we could talk…"

"Yes," Clint hastily replied, as if afraid Tony would change his mind. "Of course we can."

Natasha looked back at Clint, an indiscernible look on her face; well, indiscernible to Tony, because she and Clint appeared to be having some sort of silent conversation based on minute changes in facial expressions. After a few long moments, Coulson got to his feet and drew the attention of both younger agents.

"Come on Agent Romanov, let's give these two some time alone," his words were casual enough, but the tone held an edge of authority that brooked no arguments. Natasha gave a terse nod and then swept out past Tony and down the hallway without a backward glance. Coulson stepped up to Clint, whispering some quiet words in his ear that the younger man listened to with a somber expression on his face.

When Coulson finally stepped out, an awkward silence settled over the room. Clint looked to be struggling for words so Tony took pity on him and moved to sit in one of the chairs.

"You should sit," Tony said quietly.

Clint moved to sit on the bed so fast that Tony was shocked into a small laugh. "You were never this obedient when we were dating."

"Were?" Clint choked out, eyes distressed and miserable as he looked at Tony.

"Clint, I'm sorry…" Tony gasped out, eyes watering slightly. "But I can't be with you, like that, right now."

"But in the future, maybe you can?" And Clint's voice was filled with such hope and desperation that Tony almost caved in right then.

"I don't want to make that promise, not when I'm unsure if I can follow through," Tony said softly. Because he really wasn't sure. He didn't know if he could move past this. He wished he could be confident he would, god, he really did…but he just didn't _know_.

**XxXxXxXxXxXx Left xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx Behind xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

Clint knew Tony had read the files. Coulson had called in to SHIELD and some of the techs had found Tony's cyber-signature in their systems. Which really just went to show how shook up Tony had been by the whole thing because usually Tony was untraceable when hacking into SHIELD.

So Tony knew…knew about Clint's most horrible secret. Read about every gory detail of how Clint had stood there and just watched Tony being tortured. And then left him behind. Clint hated himself enough to know that it really shouldn't be unexpected if Tony hated him too.

"I don't want to make that promise, not when I'm unsure if I can follow through."

And even though Tony had spoken them as kindly as he could, even though the words were _expected_, they still hurt, like a chokehold, making it hard for Clint to breath.

"I get it, I do, Tony. I know that this must be awful for you. But I just…" Clint looked at Tony beseechingly. He was resorting to begging, but god, if it meant he could eventually get Tony back, he didn't really care. "Please, don't ask me to just give up."

Tony was quiet for a minute, an intensely guarded look on his face as he thought about it. And even though Clint had already started discussing plans with Natasha and Coulson, even though he already had a plan of attack for winning Tony back…he would let Tony go, if Tony asked.

Because for all that it would _kill_ Clint to lose Tony, he would do anything Tony wanted. And if Tony wanted him gone, if his presence was too much and was hurting Tony, then Clint would leave.

Oh, he'd make sure that Natasha promised to keep Tony safe. Make sure Coulson promised to be the buffer between Fury and Tony. Make sure Bruce promised to get Tony to sleep and eat and not waste away down in his lab. Make sure Thor promised to keep Tony laughing. Make sure Steve promised to look out for Tony, be a shoulder Tony could lean on when he needed it. And Clint would look out for Tony, help him whenever possible from the shadows.

…But he'd respect Tony's wishes, because Tony deserved whatever he fucking wanted. And if what he wanted was space, Clint would give it to him.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Clint nodded, "anything."

"You wanting to be with me…" and when Tony looked up at him with those wide, dark eyes, Clint could see all those past insecurities clawing there way to the surface, "is it some sort of guilt-thing?"

"No," Clint dropped to his knees in front of Tony, voice steadfast and heartfelt. Taking Tony's hand in his own, Clint thanked the heavens above that Tony allowed it, let Clint have that much needed connection.

"No," he repeated. "I'll admit that I was a little protective of you, but that could have remained a teammate thing. Me falling in love with you had nothing to do with guilt and everything to do with how good of a man you are and how much better of a man you make me."

Tony gave him a watery smile, and Clint wanted so badly to reach out and wipe away Tony's tears with the pad of his thumb, but refrained. Clint was grateful enough that he allowed Clint to grasp onto his hand, and he didn't want to push Tony too far.

"Alright…" Tony rasped, clearing his throat before continuing, "I read the files and I know the reasons why…but for all that my mind often works like a computer, I'm still just _human_, irrationalities and all. And I need to know I can _trust_ you before I consider being lovers again. But we can work on it, rebuilding our relationship. Get to know each other again as friends, Clint, for now."

Clint felt lightheaded from the sheer amount of relief that washed through him. Tony was giving him a chance.

"Okay," Clint agreed. "I can do that." He would do that. He would prove to Tony that they could be friends…and hopefully more, again, one day.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Avengers are property of Marvel.**

* * *

"Jarvis, what time is it?" Tony asked as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. He blindly reached out for his coffee with his other hand, breathing a sigh of relief when he found it still half full. Pulling the mug to his lips, he downed the last dregs of the elixir of life.

"Five twenty-five in the morning."

"Huh," Tony said, thinking he had been down in the lab for longer than that.

"On Tuesday, sir," Jarvis intoned dryly.

Tony grinned tiredly, "yeah, that makes more sense."

Pushing back from the desk, Tony swung the chair around only to find himself staring at a large tray of food- oatmeal, toast, yogurt, fresh fruit- sitting on the opposite work bench. Rising clumsily to his feet, Tony walked over to the food and frowned curiously when he found the oatmeal was warm.

"Master Barton dropped off your breakfast ten minutes ago," Jarvis informed him.

Picking up a piece of toast, Tony took a big bite and hummed his contentment. "How'd he do that? I don't remember you announcing anyone using their access code."

"That would be because Master Barton did not use the door. I believe he navigated his way in using the vents," Jarvis sounded amused and Tony bit his lip to hide a smile.

"I think that maybe you should work on your surveillance, buddy, it seems to be lacking."

"I was fully aware of the breach in security, sir. But seeing as it was Master Barton, I didn't believe any preventative measures needed to be taken to stop his entry."

Tony pulled his chair over to sit in front of the tray and scooped a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth, delighted to find it had plenty of brown sugar in it, his favorite. "Yeah? And why's that?" Jarvis usually didn't let anyone down into the lab without Tony's approval, especially when he was on an engineering spree.

"Because I'll take all the help I can get when it comes to taking care of you, sir. And Master Barton has only ever had your well-being in mind," Jarvis said factually.

"Aw, I knew you cared about me, boo," Tony feigned humor to hide the emotions running through him.

It fucking sucked that his heart was not on the same page as his mind. Because yeah, Tony knew Clint was the best boyfriend, ever. No seriously, he was. Clint was the only person on the face of the earth who could really handle Tony. Tony _knew_ that…but he couldn't help the feeling of fear that surged through him when he remembered the cave...

And god, how fucking unfair was that? Putting shrapnel in his chest was not enough. Nope. It seemed Afghanistan hadn't done enough damage to Tony's heart already. It had to fuck it up in an entirely new way.

"Sir?" Jarvis broke into his thoughts, something for which Tony was eternally grateful. "Maybe you should go get some sleep," Jarvis carefully suggested.

Tony nodded his head absently and got to his feet, picking up the tray. He made a detour to the kitchen to drop off the tray and stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner only to run into Clint.

"Tony," Clint said in surprise. "Um…" his eyes dropped to the tray, "was something wrong with the food?"

Tony looked at the tray and realized he hadn't really done more than pick at it. "No, it was fine. Just…wasn't that hungry is all," Tony shrugged.

Clint nodded his head, rocking back and forth on his heals. And wow, this was seriously the most awkward Tony had ever felt around Clint. Usually Tony would have shown Clint his thanks with a lazy morning kiss, but he couldn't do that. And the worst part was, he couldn't do that because _he_ had been the one to put a pause on their relationship.

"Uh, thanks," Tony said lamely instead. "You could have used the door, you know."

Clint rubbed the back of his neck, smiling nervously. "Wasn't too sure you'd let me in," he mumbled sheepishly.

Tony rolled his eyes and walked past Clint. "Bringing me food is fine, Clint," he called over his shoulder. "Friends do that. You've seen Bruce feed me plenty of times. Kind of a necessity since I often forget to feed myself, so in all honesty, feeding me really should be a _requirement_ of friendship," Tony rambled as he moved about the kitchen.

"There's fresh coffee in the pot," Clint said from behind Tony.

"Thank god," Tony sighed in relief as he poured himself a generous amount and took a large gulp. He turned around to find Clint studying him intensely. "What?"

Clint shook his head and pushed off the wall he had been leaning against. "Nothing. I'm going to go to the gym." Clint's eyes linger on Tony's face, warm and tender, and Tony kind of ached when he saw that. "Try to get some sleep, yeah?"

Tony took another sip of coffee before answering. "Sure." And even though Clint probably read the lie before Tony even uttered it, he let Tony get away with it. Giving Tony one last searching look, Clint turned and left the kitchen.

Tony refilled his coffee mug and then went to the living room, picking up a tablet from the couch before settling in and checking over the blue prints for a new quinjet. He had no intention of trying to sleep because he hadn't been able to close his eyes without being sent _there_.

When he had first returned, Tony had used alcohol as a means to escape his nightmares. And then later, Clint had been the one to chase them away, wrapping Tony in his arms and offering an overwhelming sense of security.

But now…Tony had no choice but to just stay awake as long as possible, hoping that by the time he finally fell into unconsciousness, he would be too exhausted to dream. It hadn't been working so far, but Tony didn't really have another option. Because what else was he supposed to do when the one person who he normally would have gone to for comfort now starred in his nightmares along with Raza, murky water, and Yinsen's blood on his hands?

Tony desperately wished the nightmares would go away, because with each passing night, the fear was building and Tony didn't know what to do to make it go away.

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Clint had thought things were going well. There had been a little bit of awkwardness between him and Tony, but after a few stumbles, they seemed to be working out how to be around each other as just friends. He had thought that just being there- a solid and reliant presence- would be a good way to show he was _never_ going to leave Tony again.

Clint had stupidly thought _that_ was the reason Tony needed some time. Tony had trust issues. After having so many people let you down and prove you wrong in trusting them, how could anyone expect Tony _not_ to have issues? So yeah, Clint had stupidly assumed that the reason Tony said they needed to work on trust was because he feared Clint would abandon him again, leave Tony like he had in that fucking cave.

Clint thought he knew what he was up against. Thought he knew what fears he had to fight in order to make Tony his again. And god, he had been wrong. So wrong. Because the truth? The real reason Tony said he needed to learn how to trust Clint again…it was so much worse than a fear of being abandoned. So much fucking worse.

He should have realized. Should have seen the signs. He was trained to observe his surroundings, see the small things that other people would never notice. Because god, the signs were all there. And looking back on it later, Clint could read them all for what they were. Tony becoming more withdrawn; Tony tensing whenever he came into the room; Tony sitting on the opposite side of the room whenever the team hung out; Tony flinching away whenever they accidently touched. The signs were _there_.

But Clint had been blind. And that's why, three weeks after everything had gone to hell, it hurt so much worse when Clint realized what he was actually up against, so much worse when Clint realized what true hell was.

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Ice-cold water. Fire searing through his body. A contradiction that leaves his mind reeling.

His nervous system sends punishing shocks of pain to his brain.

Air. Air. Need air. Essential. Going to die. NEED AIR!

Blunt fingernails dig into his scalp. His head is snapped up. Oh god, air. Eyes blink open and see…

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Tony eyes snapped open, flinching hard as he jumped away from Clint's hand on his arm.

"Tony? It was a nightmare, you're okay. It was just a nightmare," Clint soothed, but Tony wasn't listening, still trapped in the lingering shadows of his nightmare.

Desperate to get the horrifying images out of his head, Tony dug the palms of his hands into his eyes. He wanted that image out. Right now.

"Tony?"

Why? Why the fuck would his mind torture him like this? It wasn't fair.

"Tony…"

His mind had always been a brilliant weapon, but he never thought it would turn against him like this. Hurt him with…

"Fuck!" Tony yelled, jumping to his feet as he put a good few feet between himself and Clint. "Don't touch me!" Tony panicked, voice hysteric and strained, mind still trapped in a horrific loop of drowning and pain and fire and pain and his tormentor's face… _Clint's_ face and pain…

Struggling to calm his frantic thoughts, Tony tried the breathing techniques Bruce had taught him. After a few minutes, they finally seemed to work and Tony got a handle on himself. When he took notice of his surrounding, he saw a very tense Clint standing off to the side of the living room, body hunched and hands curled into fists at his side.

"Uh, sorry about that. I'm a little jumpy. I should probably cut back on the coffee," Tony tried to smile, fully aware it was a pathetic attempt.

Clint didn't say anything for a second, jaw tense and eyes stormy as he watched Tony carefully. "You were saying my name," he eventually bit out and Tony frowned in confusion. "When you were having your nightmare," Clint went on and Tony paled slightly. "You were saying my name…begging _me_ to stop."

Tony's eyes dropped to the ground, unable to meet Clint's gaze. He hadn't wanted Clint to know his nightmares had gotten so bad and this was why.

"Is that why you said you didn't trust me anymore? Because I'm the one _torturing_ you in your nightmares? Because you think I'm going to…_hurt_ you?" Clint's voice cracked on the word hurt, as if it was causing him pain to even suggest it.

"No," Tony panicked, taking a step forward before he even thought about it. "I…"

Clint barked out a hysterical laugh. "You can't even deny it." Clint took a step back, reaching a hand out behind him to feel for the wall. "Oh my god..." Once he found it, he slid down, curling in on himself and hiding his head in his arms. Tony watched Clint helplessly, hating that he was causing Clint pain like this. Hating his mind for torturing both of them like this.

A moment of heavy silence settled around them. Tony fidgeted where he stood as he waited for Clint to say something. Eventually, Clint lifted his head from his hands and stared tiredly up at Tony.

"I don't know how to fight this, Tony," Clint admitted in a small, pained voice. "I thought you didn't trust me to stay. Figured you feared I was going to abandon you. _That_…that was something I knew how to fight. " Clint shook his head, looking utterly lost. "But I don't know how to fight _this._"

"I'm sorry," Tony whispered.

Clint heaved a sigh, tilting his head back against the wall to stare at the ceiling. "You don't have anything to apologize for. It's my fault, not yours. I..." Clint raised a hand to rub the weariness from his face. "You gotta tell me what you want me to do here, Tony. You need to talk to me if we have any chance of mending things between us." Looking back to Tony, Clint searched his face. "Is that even something you still want?"

"Yes!" Tony nodded frantically, taking a step towards Clint and stopping just out of reach. "Yes, I do. I just…it's these nightmares. They're messing with my head and…" Tony took another hesitant step forward, his bare foot brushing up against where Clint had his legs sprawled out on the floor.

Taking a deep breath, Tony ruthlessly forced the fear back down. It was irrational anyways. He shouldn't be _scared_ of Clint. He wasn't a rape victim or anything. It didn't make sense that he was scared of Clint touching him. It was just these stupid nightmares...

"Okay," Tony said softly. "Just…you want me tell you what to do?"

Clint nodded, staring silently up at Tony.

"Stay still," Tony ordered.

Ever so slowly, Tony moved to sit next to Clint, an inch of space separating their bodies. Tony tried to ignore the anguished look on Clint's face when he realized Tony was trembling. Tony thought about apologizing again but realized Clint would just blame himself even more.

Tony ran through his breathing exercises, feeling his body relax in small increments until he was once again calm. Looking to the side, Tony saw Clint had closed his eyes, head titled back on the wall once as he allowed Tony the time to adjust to his proximity.

Reaching out, Tony grabbed onto Clint's hand and reveled in the fact that no fear pulsed through him, no flash of a dark cave, no feeling of being drowned.

"Okay?" Clint asked softly, squeezing Tony's fingers lightly in his.

Tony held Clint's hand tighter, latching onto this small connection and enjoying the warmth seeping into his skin. "Yeah, Clint. This is okay." _We are going to be okay, _Tony promised Clint silently. Promised himself. Because this relationship wasn't just Clint's to fight for. Tony had to fight for it too.

Twining their fingers together, Tony rested his head back against the wall. "This is okay," he repeated, softly. They could do this.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel**

* * *

They took it slow, letting Tony work through his fear in small increments. It started with just sitting next to each other on the couch, Tony programming away on his tablet, and Clint writing mission reports. Their shoulders brushed lightly when one of them shifted positions and Clint was ever grateful each time Tony _didn't_ flinch at the contact.

Then a week later, during one of the team movie nights, Tony nodded off during _The Bourne Identity_, his head resting against Clint's shoulder. Clint didn't see another second of the movie. He just closed his eyes and savored the feeling of having Tony close to him once more. Soaked in the warmth along his side where Tony was pressed up against him. Listened to the quiet breathing as Tony fell into a rare, peaceful rest.

And as much as Clint was thankful for those small moments, it was still hard. It was a kind of torture that his training at SHIELD hadn't prepared him for. Tony, the person he loved more than anyone, was so close, but not _his_. Not the way he used to be. Not the way Clint _wanted_ him to be. And it hurt. Seeing Tony struggle so hard to conquer his fear. Hurt that he was the cause of the fear. Hurt that Clint couldn't do anything except be there, stay still, and let Tony adjust.

He wanted to scream at how unfair it was. Wanted to rant and rage and shoot things. Wanted so badly to just pull Tony into his arms and never let him go. But he restrained himself. Had to. Had to hold himself back and let Tony go at his own pace. He couldn't rush things, not unless he wanted to push Tony away by trying to draw him closer.

So Clint knew what he had to do: be patient.

Unfortunately, Clint threw himself into a situation that _he_ wasn't ready to handle. He had been so focused on Tony that he hadn't took the time to seriously consider how close he was to breaking himself. And that oversight came back to bite him in the ass. Hard.

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"Okay, sparring partners. I'll be with Bruce, Natasha and Thor, Clint and Tony," Steve ordered the team gathered in the gym.

Clint immediately frowned at the announcement, not thinking that was the best idea. They'd had a few team workouts since…then, but Steve had understood the necessity to keep Tony and Clint separate during sparring sessions. Having contact like that, rough and physical, was not conducive to Tony getting over his fear of Clint hurting him.

Clint was about to protest Steve's decision, but a small tug at his shirt had him snapping his mouth shut. He glanced to his side where Tony was looking at him with a determined glint in his eye.

"I can do this," Tony said firmly. Clint looked back to his teammates, hoping for some help in convincing Tony that they didn't need to rush things, but the team had all already moved off to different corners of the gym. Apparently they weren't going to be any help.

Clint turned to face Tony, worry evident in his voice as he started speaking. "You're sure? Because I don't want you thinking you have to do this, Tony. I get that you need…"

"Clint," Tony interrupted him, a hint of fond exasperation coloring his words. "We're doing better. And as much as I love you for not pushing me, we are kind of going at a snail's pace here. I'm not as scared as before." Tony stepped closer, tracing his fingers across the muscles in Clint's arm. "So trust me, yeah?"

Clint swallowed dryly, trying to collect himself after the electric shock that went through his body at Tony's touch. "Yeah," he answered dumbly, mind still dazed, all thoughts focused on the fact that Tony was _willingly_ touching him again, on the fact that Tony had said he still loved him.

"Alright, let's get to it then," Tony clapped his hands together, taking few steps back and lowering his weight into a defensive stance. "Bring it!"

Clint grinned at Tony's enthusiasm, happy to see a glimpse of the Tony he had been missing these past few weeks, brimming with confidence and a wicked smirk on his face. Adding another few feet between them, Clint leaned forward to rest his weight on his toes, poised to attack. "I'm not gonna go easy on you."

Tony rolled his eyes and motioned Clint forward with a single finger. "Less talk, more action."

Clint shook his head, laughing for the first time in what felt like forever. He felt that tight knot in his chest uncurl, just a little, at Tony's lighthearted banter. "Alright, here I come," Clint called out before quickly jumping forward.

Tony jumped over the leg Clint swept out to try and knock him off his feet. Twisting around, Clint blocked the punch aimed at his gut, and then retreated a few feet. Clint and Tony circled each other, watching each other's movements with sharp eyes. Clint had the edge with experience, but Tony was just as cunning in hand-to-hand combat as he was in his body armor.

Surging forward, the two met in a clash of bodies. Punches and kicks and attacks and counterattacks were exchanged with startling proficiency, giving the appearance of a choreographed dance rather than a brawl. After a few minutes, Clint saw Tony rest too much weight on his right leg and pressed his advantage. Grabbing onto Tony's arm, Clint kicked Tony's left leg out and sent Tony crashing to the floor, straddling him to keep him pinned.

Chests heaving, adrenaline rushing through his body, Clint grinned down at Tony in victory. Taking in the sight Tony offered, Clint felt a unexpected shot of lust surge through him. Tony was laying beneath him, face flushed, muscles twisting and curling under his smooth skin as he tested Clint's hold on him.

And when Tony finally looked up at him, dark eyes swirling with so much emotion, but nothing even close to fear, something in Clint just snapped. Having Tony _right there_, body pliant underneath his, was too much.

Leaning down, Clint claimed Tony's mouth in a much longed for kiss. His chest ached in relief at the contact, his heart and body pouring out all the love he'd had to lock away for the past month and a half. The feel of Tony beneath him was so amazing Clint felt like he was going cry.

And when he felt Tony tense, arms tugging, trying to get loose from Clint's hold…Clint felt like he was going to cry for an entirely different reason. Releasing his hold on Tony's wrists, Clint snapped backwards, eyes wide in shock and horror at what he'd done.

"Tony, I'm so sorry," Clint gasped out, chest seizing up with fear that he had ruined _everything_, destroyed all the progress they had been making.

That's why he was extremely shocked when he felt Tony's fingers curl into his hair and drag him back down. Clint really should have been embarrassed by the strangled moan he let out, but when Tony arched up, pressing even closer, all of Clint's thoughts focused in on only one thing, _Tony_.

Opening his mouth, Clint let Tony control the kiss, welcomed the slick, wet slide of Tony's tongue against his. Clint's hands wandered aimlessly, wanting to just _feel_. Tugging Tony's shirt upwards, Clint splayed his fingers against Tony's abdomen, moving upwards seeking the arc reactor, the very essence of Tony.

And as wonderfully and suddenly as Clint was offered this heaven, it was ruthlessly and quickly taken from him. The moment Clint touched the arc reactor, he knew it was the wrong move to make. Tony surged upwards, flinging Clint off of him, his eyes wild and panicked. He started hyperventilating, chest heaving as he tried to suck in large gulps of air.

Clint sat there, legs askew, mind reeling, bewildered about what to do. Shifting to his knees, Clint tried getting closer to Tony, wanted to calm him down, wanted to do…something. But a firm hand on his arm stopped him. Clint turned around, growling in frustration at Steve who held him in place.

"Let me go," he snapped, wanting, _needing_ to go to Tony.

"No, Clint. Let Bruce handle this," Steve spoke firmly, voice resonating with authority.

Clint watched helplessly as Bruce approached Tony, hands held out in front of him to show he wasn't a threat. Bruce crouched down, speaking in soft whispers as he tried to draw Tony back from whatever nightmarish flashback he was experiencing. After a minute of assuring murmurs, Tony's breathing finally calmed down, the terror slowly seeping out of Tony's eyes.

Blinking slowly, Tony finally came back to himself. He looked around warily, gauging his surroundings and finding that he was in the protection of his team. His eyes landed on Clint, apologetic and just so fucking _sad_.

"Tony, _don't_," Clint begged, hating the remorse swimming in Tony's eyes. "Don't you dare blame yourself for this."

Tony shook his head, biting his lip so hard that blood bubbled up where his teeth sliced through. Getting to his feet, legs wobbly and small tremors rocking his body, Tony sent one last pleading look to Clint.

"I'm sorry," Tony choked out before fleeing to his lab. Clint hung his head, fingers pulling at his hair in frustration.

"Fuck!" Clint started punching the gym mat beneath him, needing some sort of outlet for the anger coursing through him.

How could he have been so stupid?! How could he have come so close to having Tony back and then lose him?! Why did life have to be so fucking unfair?!

"Clint, stop," Natasha's voice snapped through his frantic thoughts. He felt a hand grasp his wrist, stopping him from pounding his fist into the ground. "You're going to damage your hands." Looking at his fists, Clint saw he had already scraped off a few layers of skin, blood pouring down his bruised knuckles.

"Just like you told Tony, you can't blame yourself for this," Natasha whispered as she rubbed a hand down his back. It was a rare thing for Natasha to offer comfort to anyone, and Clint was so grateful for it.

Clint winced as he ran a finger over his knuckles to assess the damage he had done. It wasn't too bad, just some minor lacerations. His hands would heal within a few days. All he needed to do was bandage them up, simple as that.

"It's kind of hard not to blame myself…"

Clint wished things between him and Tony could be healed just as easily.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Avengers belong to Marvel.**

* * *

"Run preliminary diagnostics and then wrap it up, Jarvis. I'm gonna go get some food," Tony told the AI as he pushed away from his lab bench. His back ached when he stood, body tense from having spent two days curled over his lab bench, just trying to forget…everything.

"Of course, sir. You might also wish to consider getting some sleep," Jarvis suggested.

"Considering it," Tony paused, twisting his body around to loosen up his stiff muscles, back popping in protest. "Considered it, rejecting proposal."

"Sir, you can't continue…"

"I can do whatever I want, Jarvis. But sleeping is not one of those things," Tony snapped, nerves strained beyond what he was cable of handling.

Taking his frustration and anger out on his AI was uncalled for, but Jarvis had always been more understanding of Tony's very obvious personality flaws than anyone the genius knew. And Tony also knew that Jarvis wouldn't hold it against him but still….

Tony rubbed a hand over his face, "Sorry, buddy. I'll try to grab a twenty minute nap, alright?"

"Thank you, sir."

It really was sad that Tony had to rely on Jarvis, who didn't even have basic human needs, to remind him that he needed to eat, drink, and sleep or die. But Tony figured that Jarvis would always be there for him, so maybe it didn't matter if Tony forgot trivial things like that.

Shuffling his way through the tower, Tony found his way to the kitchen. Eyes flickering to the microwave, he saw that it was just after 3 o'clock in the morning. Pretty confident that no one was awake to catch him, Tony used a stool to reach the cupboard above the fridge. Quickly grabbing a packet of poptarts from Thor's 'secret' stash, Tony hopped back onto the ground and prepared to eat his find.

A tingling sensation on the back of his neck had Tony turning around and letting out a small yelp of surprise when he found Natasha staring at him with assessing eyes.

"Jeez, she-ninja, warn a guy next time," Tony breathed out, hand over his chest in an instinctive reaction to check his pounding heart and instead feeling the steady thrum of the arc reactor.

"You're hurting him," Natasha spoke, voice quite but resolute.

"Huh?" Tony feigned ignorance and received a glare from Natasha.

"You can't keep doing this, Stark. You're giving him false-hope."

"It's not _false_-hope. I just…" Tony leaned against the counter, wrapping his arms around his body to defend himself against her quiet anger. "I need a little time."

"He's given you plenty of time and space. And it's fine that you need it. But you can't just let him in again only to push him even further away when he accepts the closeness you offer. You're _hurting_ him."

"Yeah, well I'm not exactly feeling all that great either, Romanova," Tony glared. "You think I like the fact that some irrational fear is controlling my life?!"

"Find a way to conquer the fear then," Natasha said, as if it were that _easy_. Considering how good Natasha was at compartmentalizing her life, maybe for her it would be. But Tony had never been good at ignoring his emotions. His standard procedure for coping with emotions was to drown them in alcohol or fuck them away. Both of which were not options for a recovering alcoholic who happened to be in a committed relationship with a guy he couldn't even let touch him.

"I'm trying."

"Try harder or let him go," Natasha snapped before spinning around and stalking into the shadows.

Tony stared at the ground, frowning in thought. He knew Natasha was just being protective of Clint, and didn't hold it against her. But it still hurt, just a little, that she thought he wasn't trying to get over the fear. Because he was. He was trying.

He thought he had finally gotten a handle on it. That's why he said sparring would be fine. And for the most part it had been. Throughout the fight, hot adrenaline had been pumping through his veins, not the icy rush of fear, and then the searing flash of arousal…things had been going well. Until Clint had touched the arc reactor.

Tony wasn't even sure if that was a Clint-thing. With how on edge Tony had been for the past few weeks, it probably could have been _anyone_ on the team and Tony still would have freaked the fuck out if they touched the arc reactor. But in the end, it hadn't been just anyone. It had been _Clint_. And while Tony was already recovered from the panic it had sent crashing through him at the time, he was not in any way over the guilt he felt when he remembered Clint's pained face.

Natasha was right. He was hurting Clint. And since his fear was fading but still there in the recesses of his mind…maybe…maybe he should let Clint go.

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"I got eyes on the car," Tony told his teammates as he flew over New York City traffic.

"Good, stay on them but try to remain out of sight. We'll set up a plan of attack once they stop moving. We don't want them to know we are on their tails already," Steve ordered over the comm.

"Got it," Tony said, pulling back and racing up higher so as to keep out of the kidnappers' notice. It was ridiculous really that a group of immature thugs had managed to get a drop on the NYPD and kidnap the mayor. Maybe the authorities had started to lose their edge just because they felt they could call the Avengers in for help whenever they wished.

Twenty minutes later, the car pulled to a stop in front of an old warehouse. How cliché. Tony watched as they pulled the mayor out and led him into the building at gunpoint. Circling above the warehouse, Tony called in the coordinates and waited until the team arrived on site before going in to land.

"You know, I totally could have gotten the mayor back by now if you'd have allowed me to blow out their tires," Tony sighed, disliking being reigned in by Cap.

"We don't need a big hitter for this type of mission, Iron Man. We need a more subtle approach," Steve said as he looked at the schematics SHIELD had sent them.

Cap pointed to fire escapes running along the side of the building that would allow access from above. "Hawkeye, Widow, you guys will go in here and here. Once they're in position, Iron Man, you'll blast a whole in the front of the warehouse and I want you to keep all eyes on you…"

"Not seeing how that's subtle, but I do so love being the center of attention so no complaints here," Tony said happily, Steve talking over him to finish explaining the plan.

"Hawkeye and Widow, you guys take them out from behind while they're distracted. Thor and I will sweep the perimeter to make sure none of the criminals escape. Bruce, you stay here. I don't think we need the Hulk for this," Steve finished.

He looked up at his team and got nods of confirmation before giving the signal to proceed. Everyone took off to fulfill their respective roles. Tony flew to perch on the roof of the adjacent warehouse and waited for the others to get in position.

Half a minute later Clint and Natasha called in that they were set and ready. Checking the heat signatures, Tony determined the best place to send his ammo without risking the mayor's life. Decision made, Tony flew to a corner at the front of the warehouse and raised his gauntlet to set off a short repulsor blast.

The wall burst to dust under the blast and Tony stepped through the whole he had made, immediately drawing all gunfire to himself. There were about ten men with automatic rifles shooting away and wasting ammo. It was sad that they thought their inadequate weaponry would do anything against his suit.

It only took five minutes for the ten men surrounding the mayor to be neutralized, either by Clint's arrows or Natasha's thighs of death. Tony was just stepping forward to release the mayor when a panicked shout filled the warehouse.

"Hawkeye!" Natasha yelled, drawing Tony's attention up to where a man was taking aim at Clint's back.

His heart skittered to a halt when a single gunshot cracked through the air and Tony watched helplessly as Clint's body rocked forward as the agent collapsed to the ground. Without a second thought, Tony sent two precision-shots hurtling towards the gunman and blasted him away.

Tony flew up to where Clint was laying prone on the ground, body much too still. His breath caught in his throat when he saw blood streaking Clint's hair.

"Clint?" Tony croaked, his gauntlet shaking tremendously as he reached out. His mind was splintering, images from his past merging with the horrific image before him.

Yinsen, a man who saved his life, dying right in front of him, body riddled with bullets. Clint, the man he loved, dying right in front of him, blood seeping out of a wound Tony couldn't see. Different times, different circumstances, but the exact same sense of anguish. Exact same feeling of crushing helplessness.

"Clint…" _You can't leave me behind._


	10. Chapter 10

Clint groaned, recognizing the annoying yet familiar smell of sterilizers and the feel of scratchy linens that signaled he was in the medical annex. His eyes remained closed as he tried to assess what the damage was this time. He couldn't even remember how he had ended up here…

Wiggling his toes, Clint sighed in relief that he wasn't paralyzed. Next in order of importance, his hands. His right arm moved well enough, a little stiff from being still for so long, but that was acceptable. His left arm however…not doing so well on the whole moving thing. It felt heavy, weighted down in a way that Clint feared meant he had done some serious damage. Shit, he wouldn't be able to use his bow.

Scared to look at his left arm, Clint took a deep, calming breath before opening his eyes. The archer barked out a relieved laugh when he saw _why_ his arm wasn't moving. Tony was slouched forward in his chair, head pillowed on Clint's arm.

The man startled when Clint laughed, bleary eyes blinking sluggishly as he smiled sleepily at Clint. "You're awake…" Tony croaked, voice sleep gruff.

"Yeah," Clint smiled. "Want to tell me how I ended up here?"

Skin paling slightly at the question, Tony frowned as he reached a hand up to brush his fingers through Clint's hair. "You kinda took a bullet to the head."

Eyes widening in shock, Clint also moved his hand upwards. His fingers met a bandage and he winced in pain when he gently prodded the wound. Tony pulled his hand away from the gauze with a scowl.

"Don't antagonize the stitches," he reprimanded, twining their fingers together. "It was a graze. Fifteen stitches."

"Oh god," Clint groaned. "I have a bald spot now, don't I?"

Tony snorted in shocked amusement, lips twitching upwards in a small smile. "Yeah, they had to shave off a little to examine the wound."

"Meh," Clint shrugged. "I can pull it off," he finished with a confident grin.

Tony smiled at him, eyes warm and fond, before leaning forward to press his lips against Clint's. Clint might have been stunned by the sudden and unexpected kiss, but he was always quick to adapt to any situation he found himself in. Fingers tangling in Tony's hair, Clint drew the man closer. The kiss turned from soft and gentle to hot and frantic, both men more than a little desperate to get the other closer.

"Not that I am complaining at all," Clint panted as the other man moved to suck at his neck. "But what happened to…god, Tony…what happened to being scared…"

Tony licked a long stripe up Clint's neck, giving Clint once last peck on the lips before pulling away slightly. "Seeing you get shot kinda instilled an entirely different fear." Tony swallowed thickly, eyes darting to the bandage. "I can't waste any time I have with you, Clint. I mean, what if I had lost you and…" the genius choked off, eyes watering a little.

Clint pulled Tony into his arms, shifting slightly to make enough room on the bed for Tony to curl up next to him. "Shh…" Clint hushed his love, arm curled tightly around the trembling man in his arms. "I'm not going anywhere, babe. There is no way I'd ever leave you," Clint tried to comfort Tony.

Tony just shook his head. "You can't make a promise like that, Clint. We both know the risks involved with what we do…so just…don't make a promise like that."

"Okay," Clint conceded. "Then what do you want me to do?" _I'll do anything for you, Tony._

Tony lifted his head from Clint's chest, leaning up to kiss him gently. "Just hold me," Tony said, reaching for Clint's hand and pulling the archer's arm tighter around his body. The genius moved back to settle his head against Clint's chest, ear pressed up against the wounded man so he could listen to his heartbeat. Clint let out a shaky breath when Tony placed their interlinked hands over the arc reactor, taking in the familiar thrum and warmth the object gave off.

"That's no hardship at all," Clint said softly, pressing a kiss to the top of Tony's head. The two fell into a relaxed quiet, simply enjoying the feel of being so close again.

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"Hey, Clint…" Tony whispered, finger poking the archer's side. Clint just frowned and turned over, pulling his pillow over his head. "Clint," Tony whined, tugging at the pillow. "Come on, wake up."

Groaning tiredly, Clint allowed the pillow to be pulled from his grasp and peeked one eye open at Tony. "What time is it?"

"Seven," Tony said way too happily, and way too energetically. The man must have already grabbed a cup of coffee before waking Clint.

"Why the hell are you getting me up at seven in the morning, Tony?" Clint groaned as he threw an arm over his eyes in an attempt to block out the light filtering in through the large windows in their bedroom. "Steve pushed the team workout back to ten in honor of my release from medical."

"True…" Clint heard Tony agree, listening to the sounds of him shifting around. "But," Tony moved to straddle Clint's hips, "if you wake up now, we can have our own workout before breakfast."

Clint smiled up at Tony, lazy and pleased. "Yeah?"

Tony rolled his hips forward, grinding his ass down into Clint's already hardening cock. "Yeah," Tony said, tone a little smug at the moan he managed to pull from his lover.

Never one to be out done, Clint moved quickly to grab a handful of Tony's hair, dragging him down into a hot, possessive kiss. As he licked his way into Tony's mouth, he let his other hand trace down Tony's spine, fingers light and teasing. Clint continued to keep his touch light, smiling into the kiss when Tony let out a frustrated groan.

Tony pulled away with a huff of annoyance, eyes dark and filled with lust. "Are you going to fuck me or not?"

Grinning wickedly, Clint surged upwards to flip them over, hands moving to pin Tony's arms above his head. "Oh, I'm definitely going to fuck you," he promised softly, hotly. "But first," Clint thrust his hips forward, pressing their erections together and enjoying the man it earned him. "_First_, I'm going to show you just how much I've missed being able to touch you."

Clint leaned down slowly, mouth open to suck at the pulse point of Tony's neck, wanting, _needing_ to leave his mark on Tony. A reminder that Tony was _his_.

"Sounds good to me…" Tony gasped out a moan, baring his neck to Clint, more than willing to let his lover do whatever he wanted. Clint wasn't always known for having good ideas, but this particular idea sounded fucking fantastic.

**XxXxXxXxXxXx Left xXxXxXxXxXxXxXx Behind xXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxX**

"Hey, Stark," Natasha called for Tony's attention, deftly cutting her pancakes into bite-size pieces.

Tony pulled away from Clint's kiss reluctantly, appeased slightly when he felt Clint's arms loop around his waist, warm body pressed up against his back. "Yeah?" The genius asked, hands moving to pick up the coffee mug on the counter before him.

"You might want to think about soundproofing your guys' room," Natasha suggested mildly as she poured a little syrup over her pancakes. "You've become somewhat of a screamer," Natasha smirked when Steve spit out a mouthful of orange juice, his face flaming in embarrassment.

Tony just grinned happily as Clint snickered quietly behind him. "Sure thing, Romanova. Wouldn't want to any of you to get jealous."

Natasha rolled her eyes at the comment, reaching out to hand Steve a napkin so he could clean up, his cheeks still tinged a slight red. Tony struck up an animated conversation with Bruce about…some experiment involving metal alloys. Thor was bouncing excitedly where he stood next to Coulson, eagerly waiting for the agent to finish the next batch of pancakes.

All in all, everything was back to normal.

Pressing a soft kiss to the side of Tony's neck, Clint held the genius close as he chatted excitedly with Bruce. He didn't really understand a word, but he didn't particularly care.

He had Tony in his arms again and that was really all that mattered.

**The End**


End file.
